manic_intent (manic_intent) wrote in no_true_pair, @ 2009-05-19 08:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! 2009 kinks challenge, author: manic_intent, crossover: ff12/marvel, pairing: wolverine/vayne |
Lessons [FFXII:OGC/Marvel: Wolverine x Vayne]
Title: Lessons
Author/Artist: manic_intent
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII: OGC/Marvel
Pairing/characters: Wolverine x Vayne
Rating: R
Warnings: Some violence.
Prompt/challenge you're answering: X disciplines/spanks Y during sex.
Prompt: Wolverine disciplines/spanks Vayne during sex
Me: UHHH.
Dark Mirrors AU
FFXII/Marvel Crossover
Lessons
I
“If you think I’m gonna let you off easy just because you’re writin’ my paychecks, you got another think comin’, bub.” Logan’s smile was thin and unforgiving over his thickly accented drawl, his roughened thumbs hooked into faded jeans, a cracked bomber jacket over a white singlet, a patched gray ten gallon hat hiding feral eyes.
Nature at her very worst was just as exquisite as her best, and Logan was both of such and neither.
“I happen to be counting on it, Logan.” Vayne had rolled the cream sleeves of his linen shirt up to his elbows, though he disdained to do the same for his tailored pants, and he kept his bared feet flat and easy on the practice mat. On his left, bared wrist, the black watch face of Romain Jerome’s priceless Titanic hung heavy on sleek, pale muscle. His right hand balanced a thirty-centimeter transparent ruler, both hands gloved in white kid leather.
Logan’s smile faded into a sneer, and the hat bobbed as the mutant looked his employer insolently up and down. Vayne could almost hear Bergan’s vein pop all the way from the control room. “You can make things go fast, make things go slow. But you have t’touch somethin’ t’wind them up or down, an' if you let me up that close you’ll be dead already an’ some.”
“We’ll see.” Vayne had tied his long hair up tightly at the nape of his neck, another nod to anticipated exertion.
“Just sayin’. People who try t’teach me lessons tend t’learn other ones the hard way.”
“I’m touched that you’re concerned, Logan. But I have heard rather trying reports of late that you’ve been… difficult, shall we say, deliberately misunderstanding orders, and my patience is not without its limits.”
“So you’re gonna fight me with a ruler.”
“Aye.”
“Your funeral, boss.” Logan rolled his shoulders, limbering up. “I might even enjoy this.”
“No claws, Logan?”
“Don’t need them.”
Vayne smiled. The twirling ruler in his right hand seemed to flicker, and in the next heartbeat, Logan snarled in surprised agony as it rammed through his thigh, embedding itself deep into the practice mat. Staggering back, his limp growing faint, and then unnoticeable, his healing factor stitching up the wound, Logan watched warily as Vayne sauntered over to the ruler, and with a delicate flick of his wrist, yanked it out.
“Material acceleration and deceleration, Logan. Any object. No claws?”
Logan flexed his wrists, smirked, baring his teeth. “One question. If I beat you half t’death, do I get fired?”
“I could not fail then to be suitably impressed, could I?”
“Claws it is, boss.” Logan grinned wide, apparently embracing the sting of pain as adamantium claws slid out between the joints of his fingers, and charged. Vayne watched mildly as the other mutant bore down on him, all the while growling like a maddened creature, and sidestepped, at the very last moment, in an economy of acceleration, drawing the edge of the ruler sharply up and out. He came to a completely still stop at a respectable distance, smiling faintly as Logan inspected the deep gash against his ribs. Already, flesh was closing over the white of bone.
“You can speed yourself up?”
“Any material, Logan.”
“Can’t imagine that’s too good for you t’hold for too long.” Logan grinned, all menace and no play, and that was why Vayne valued Wolverine above many intrinsically more powerful agents of the Consortium; the man had an instinct for the kill and a bloodlust to accompany it. Still, a trained pet that overstepped its bounds one inconvenient time too many had to be disciplined.
“True.”
Three more futile charges and the ruler was bloodying his gloves. On the fourth, Vayne ducked instead, hamstringing his opponent, and as Logan stumbled, he turned, pressed the palm of his hand against the other mutant’s back, smirked when Logan’s movements instantly slowed into a crawl. One smart rap of the ruler against Logan’s knuckles, and Vayne sauntered back to the center of the practice mat.
His ability did not affect those alive for too long. Logan tugged his hat down further over his eyes when he unfroze. “You tryin’ t’piss me off, Solidor?”
“That may come as an unfortunate side effect to teaching you a lesson, aye.”
“If you wanted t’kill me you could’a taken my head off with that ruler just now.”
“And ruin my shirt?” Vayne’s smiled, inscrutable. “Besides, that would indeed be an unforgivable waste of talent.”
“Didn’t say I thought you’ll be doin’ it.” Logan drawled, flexing his fingers. “An’ don’t think I’ll be extendin’ you a favor if you make a mistake, bub.”
“I never expect favors. It becomes a terrible habit.” Vayne sidestepped a feint, dodged a retaliatory strike, and barely leapt back from another, faster swipe that hooked the edge of his right sleeve and tore it almost to the shoulder. From Logan’s vicious grin, it was obvious that he wasn’t the only one holding back.
He put the ruler through Logan’s right lung, next, calculating trajectory for the makeshift ‘weapon’ to exit instead of impale itself against a shoulder-blade or rib, and as the mutant doubled over, choking on his blood, set it down smartly on Logan’s arse – and the bloody, manic grin under the cowboy hat was enough of a warning for Vayne to twist back, sharply, still, not fast enough for claws to rake smartly across his thigh, shredding expensive Italian wool.
“Your Highness,” Bergan’s voice cracked sharply over the intercom, but Vayne held up a palm.
“Hold, Bergan.” Vayne inspected the damage. Deep, but not deep to the bone. Logan uncurled with little grace into a crouch, spitting blood to mottle the blue of the practice mat, licking at bloodied lips.
“Pretty boys an’ their pretty clothes, what a fuckin’ shame,” Logan drawled, “Still wanna dance?”
“I haven’t said otherwise.”
Fifteen minutes and twenty seconds later, Logan spat out a tooth, coughed, and wiped his mouth, smearing blood over his jaw, picking the splintered quarter of the ruler out from his belly with little more than a grimace. Bloody gouges were ripped down his left, dislocated arm, already closing, and Logan muttered something absolutely filthy under his breath as he snapped the arm back into its socket. Vayne was shrugging out of his ruined shirt, rather regretfully. The swipe on his back hurt. Logan had meant business, then; it was only from the exercise of the entirety of his ability that Vayne had escaped relatively in one piece.
Vayne could not remember the last time he’d had, out of sheer necessity, to let loose, and he found that he rather-
“Sure you want t’keep goin’, bub?” Logan was asking, and the insolence wasn’t all gone, but there was a little respect now that had been previously sadly lacking.
“I may have to remove my watch to prevent you from breaking it, but besides that-”
“I meant, here,” Logan elaborated, with a jerk of his thumb towards the pale blue mirror set high into the wall to Vayne’s right, the control room. “Under the eye o’ your watchful nannies.”
“Unfortunately,” Vayne said dryly, “The rest of my estate may be insured against property damage, but I do not enjoy breaking my possessions without ample reason.”
“Fair enough,” Logan smirked, as though having satisfied himself of something, then he tapped his nose, his single, unbruised eye narrowing. “Could be you’re enjoyin’ this a little more than I think you should be, boss. I can smell it.”
“You may be right.” Adrenaline and danger were always powerful stimulants. Still, Vayne didn’t move, balancing instead the remnants of the broken ruler on his right palm, then twirling it. “Learned your lesson?”
“That you’re stronger than me? Yeah. I knew that one already,” Logan said, evidently unimpressed. “That you’re better than me? Could be somethin’ else altogether. You like this sort o’ thing as much as I do, pretty boy, an’ that,” Logan added, grinning his bloody grin, as he sheathed his claws, “Could be more than worth getting’ a ruler through a lung for.”
“Any other revelations?” Vayne asked, as dispassionately as he could. There was a faint vein of truth in Logan’s words, and it disconcerted him.
“Looks like you’re still callin’ the shots for now, Solidor.” Logan’s tone was frank, his eyes only seemingly human in their predatory restlessness, and Vayne couldn’t resist the jibe.
“Is this your version of rolling over and showing me your belly?”
A smirk. “Could be, bub.”
“I’ll be getting these wounds treated,” Vayne inclined his head. Logan never did apologize, and this was the closest to a capitulation as Vayne knew he would get. “Afterwards, I expect to see you in my quarters for a further rebuke.”
“That what you call it now’adays?”
II
Sex with the Wolverine always seemed to be fraught with further bodily damage. Vayne examined bruises on his hips that would purple on the morrow as Logan rolled off him with a grunt, arching to stretch, the red lines of the whip on his back already fading to nothing. Thick fingers scratched through spiky black hair before settling with customary insolence on Vayne’s belly, sticky with filth. Someday, Vayne decided, with mild annoyance, he would certainly-
“If you wanted me t’learn control, you would’na be placin’ me in situations which call for me t’lose it,” Logan observed into Vayne’s neck, his breath hot; his sweat stank, but Vayne didn’t pull back.
“Specify.”
An irritated snort. “Uganda. Not your power plays on the mats or fuckin’.”
“Primary mission complete but secondary mission a failure,” Vayne agreed, settling down against ruined sheets. “You weren’t meant to hurt any of Xavier’s students.”
“I didn’t hurt any o’ them lethally.”
“And you certainly weren’t meant to massacre half of the peacekeeping forces.”
“Got in my way. An’ you ain’t answerin’ my question, bub.”
“If you wanted only to suppress your demons and pretend they weren’t there, join Xavier, Logan. You came to me to learn how to control them. Amongst other conditions which, may I remind you, we have long fulfilled to your satisfaction.”
Another snort, but this one, amused. “Could be I might o’ killed all o’ the peacekeepin’ forces, before.”
“I’ll take that under advisement as constituting an ‘improvement’ on your part,” Vayne noted dryly.
“You let Bergan kill.”
“I ask him to,” Vayne corrected. “As I do many of my employees.”
A grin, pressed against his collar. “Sleep with a lot o’ them?”
“Do you need me to answer that?”
“No.” Logan yawned, “S’pose not. So what next? Gonna drop me into Afghanistan t’leapfrog back t’base without ticklin’ any o’ the soldiers? Some max security prison in Mexico to waltz with the fuckin’ wardens?”
“Actually, I think you should escort my brother and his classmates on their school trip tomorrow to the local zoo.” When Logan twisted up to stare at him incredulously, Vayne smirked. “For all you know, it may prove educational. You may even meet some relatives.”
“Take a bunch o’ spoiled, rich twelve year old brats around the fuckin’ zoo?”
“Try to restrain yourself from disemboweling the chimpanzees.”
-keke-